


Gently

by kiyala



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Nonverbal Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want you to fuck me," Ryouta tells him, simple and direct. "With your hand around my throat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gently

Sometimes, Yukio just wants to wrap his hands around Ryouta's throat and _squeeze_. Not particularly hard, but just to show his frustration. Less so now than when they were in school together, but sometimes it just so happens that Ryouta wants to be annoying. Unfortunately for Yukio, his boyfriend knows exactly how to annoy him. 

They're making plans for a casual street ball match with some of their friends, and it's something they've both been looking forward to for weeks. They play together often enough anyway, but the upcoming match feels different. It feels _special_. 

And here, Ryouta is talking about how he might have a photoshoot booked for that day, so he won't be able to make it. 

Rationally, Yukio knows that Ryouta isn't being serious about it. He knows that Ryouta  wouldn't let his modelling work get in the way of basketball; he never has and he never will. Unfortunately, after a week of nonstop assessments and not enough sleep, Yukio isn't particularly inclined to be _rational_ about anything. 

He steps forward, grabbing Ryouta by the collar of his shirt with both hands, dragging him down so they're at the same eye level. "What were you saying about not making the game?"

He expects Ryouta to laugh, quiet and pleased, just as he always does when Yukio falls for his bait. Instead, his eyes are wide. Yukio hears him gasp sharply, watches as his cheeks flush. His gaze is fixed on Yukio's hands, pressing firmly against his throat and—

Shit. 

Yukio lets go and takes several steps back, like he's been burnt. 

"That was mean," Ryouta says softly, fixing his collar, but he sounds distracted, his gaze not quite focusing on Yukio. His fingers slide around his throat, rubbing over the skin gently. It could just be to soothe his neck after being grabbed, but his touch lingers, and there's a thoughtful look in his eyes and suddenly, Yukio has to turn away. 

"Just. Be at the game, okay?" Yukio slides his hands into his pockets so he's forced to keep them to himself, and absently kicks at the ground before he starts walking again. "Come on."

Ryouta follows after a moment, trailing behind him as they wander between stores. Yukio notices the way Ryouta absently touches his neck when he thinks he isn't being watched. Yukio doesn't quite know why it makes his heart race the way it does, but he doesn't mention it. Ryouta doesn't either. 

«·»

It doesn't come up again even once over the next week. Ryouta is back to his usual, playful self and Yukio figures that he might as well put the whole thing behind him. 

It works, until Yukio's curiosity gets the better of him. 

They're making out on Yukio's couch on a Saturday night, paused halfway through a movie that neither of them were paying attention to. Yukio is kneeling over Ryouta, pressing him into the couch. He has his hands resting on Ryouta's shoulders and he doesn't mean for them to wander. He doesn't mean to touch Ryouta's neck but he does, dragging his fingers over the warm skin as they kiss. 

Ryouta freezes up, immediately pulling back, and Yukio panics, worried he's done something wrong. Judging by the look Ryouta gives him, though, it's the complete opposite. He covers Yukio's hand with his own, keeping it right where it is, and leans into the touch. 

"Yukio…" There's that tone of voice again, soft and cautious, like he's unsure of what he wants to say. 

It hits Yukio then; he knows exactly what to do, because he's done this with Ryouta before. He presses a light kiss to Ryouta's lips before drawing back and holding his gaze. "Tell me what you need."

Ryouta takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on Yukio's hand. "I need your hand right here. Pressing harder."

Squeezing gently, Yukio watches Ryouta carefully, feels his gasp as much as he hears it. "I don't want to hurt you."

Ryouta smiles at him, open and trusting and beautiful. "You won't. I trust you."

Yukio kisses him hard, tightening his grip on Ryouta's neck a little just for the way it makes him gasp. He pulls away, getting up off the couch. "Okay. I want you to wait for me on my bed. I'll join you in a minute."

Ryouta nods eagerly, walking towards Yukio's room. Yukio walks over to the closet in the hallway, where he keeps his training equipment. There's a set of weighted balls, designed to fit into the palm of one hand, in a variety of weights. Yukio picks the middle of the weight range, testing it out in his hand before walking over to the bedroom.

He pauses when he sees that Ryouta's undressed himself, kneeling on the bed and waiting. Yukio's lips quirk into a smile and he puts the weighted ball down on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt and jeans off, then his boxers, joining Ryouta. 

"Hold onto this," he says, pressing the weighted ball into Ryouta's hand. "In case you need me to stop but you can't say it. I'll be able to feel that drop onto the bed."

"You think of everything," Ryouta smiles at him. "I knew you'd take good care of me."

Yukio coughs quietly, embarrassed by the praise. "How do you want to do this?" 

"I want you to fuck me," Ryouta tells him, simple and direct. "With your hand around my throat."

Yukio swallows hard. "Okay."

Reaching over to Yukio's bedside drawer, Ryouta pulls out the bottle of lube and holds it up for him, trying and failing not to look eager for it. Yukio smiles, stroking his fingers through Ryouta's hair affectionately before taking the bottle from him. At least he knows what to do here. He can focus on stretching Ryouta open, the familiar feeling of him, tight and warm around Yukio's fingers. 

Ryouta looks beautiful, spread out on his bed, face tilted up and away as he pants softly, the elegant line of his neck bared, waiting for Yukio's fingers to wrap around it once again. Ryouta is hard, his cock resting against his belly. Yukio reaches for a condom, slicking himself and pushing in slowly.

With a gasp, Ryouta arches against the bed. He reaches out, splaying his hands against Yukio's stomach, stroking his fingers over the soft skin and hard muscle. Yukio doesn't stop until he's in to the hilt, giving Ryouta a moment to adjust to it and checking that he's holding onto the weighted ball before reaching out, gently taking hold of his throat.

All of Ryouta's breath comes rushing out of him in a whine. Yukio can't help his smile, tightening his grip as much as he confidently can. He rocks his hips gently, watching Ryouta carefully. The expressions that play out on his face are wonderful, the pleasure, the thrill, the anticipation. Ryouta holds onto Yukio's wrist, guiding his hand against his throat more firmly. Yukio follows his lead, knowing that he won't ask for more than he can handle.

He presses down, firmly enough that he can tell that he's definitely cutting off some of Ryouta's air. He can hear the rasp of Ryouta's breath with every thrust, he can see the bliss on his face. 

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, taking in the mess of precome on Ryouta's belly, the flush of his cheeks. "You're so gorgeous." 

Ryouta makes a soft noise, letting go of the ball in his hand. Yukio immediately loosens his grip, pulling his hand away. With a whine of protest, Ryouta grabs for his wrist, guiding his hand back to where it was. Yukio doesn't press down, just touches the warm skin, and he can tell that it's exactly what Ryouta needs. 

Yukio fucks Ryouta harder, listening to him gasp, watching him writhe on the bed. He wraps his hand around Ryouta's cock, pumping it in time with their thrusts and that's all it takes. Ryouta comes with a shaky gasp, trembling under Yukio's hands. He clenches down, making Yukio grunt quietly as he comes too.

"Are you okay?" Yukio strokes the side of Ryouta's neck with his thumb before he pulls his hand away. He can see where his hand has left a mark on Ryouta's skin and hazily wonders if it'll still be there in a few days, when he has his next photoshoot. He hopes it is. Even if it gets covered by makeup and editing, he'll know. Ryouta will know. That's all that matters.

"Yeah." Ryouta nuzzles against his hand, lips spread into a blissful smile. His voice is a little raspy. "That was really good. Are _you_ okay?"

Yukio snorts quietly, bending down so he can kiss Ryouta. "Yeah. We can try that again sometime, if you want. So we can get… better at it."

Chuckling softly, Ryouta holds Yukio close, resting their foreheads against each other. "Thank you, Yukio."

"You don't need to thank me for it," Yukio grumbles, his cheeks growing warm. "I enjoyed it too."

With a smile, Ryouta shuts his eyes. Yukio kisses his forehead, getting out of bed to throw his condom out and get a bottle of water. Ryouta drains most of it in one go, sighing softly as he settles back against the pillows. Yukio props himself up with an elbow, idly stroking Ryouta's hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, the words coming out before he can second-guess them. It isn't the first time he's said it, but it's still a rare enough occurrence that Ryouta's face lights up. Yukio wants to look away to hide his own blush, but he can't turn away from Ryouta's wide eyes, his glowing smile. Instead, Yukio leans in, kissing Ryouta, repeating the words but quieter this time, against his lips. 

"Love you too." Ryouta doesn't stop smiling, taking Yukio's hand into his. He presses a kiss to Yukio's chest, right over his racing heart. "I love you more than anything."


End file.
